


Closer

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: (mech)pregnancy kink, Fisting, Fluff and Angst, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, POV Alternating, Sticky, Threesome, Twincest, mucus plug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet's hiding something; the twins just don't know what. Yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_You let me violate you_

_You let me desecrate you_

_You let me penetrate you_

_You let me complicate you_

_\- 'Closer', Nine Inch Nails_

 

 

 

                “Why don’t you ever spike us?”

                Sunstreaker looked up from his data pad, not surprised Sideswipe couldn’t go more than five minutes without speaking. The seriousness in Sideswipe’s tone however, was unexpected, and Sunstreaker focused in on his brother.

                His twin was propped up on his elbows, frowning at the medic sprawled on the opposite end of their berth. Ratchet looked up from his own reading, frowning as well.

                “What do you mean? You’ve seen my spike.”

                Sideswipe scoffed. “Sure, I’ve seen it. Touched it. Licked and sucked it too. It’s a fine specimen,” he said with a leer. “But it’s never once been… here,” he commented, sliding a hand between his thighs and cupping his closed panel.

                Sunstreaker shook his head, amused. It was also not a surprise Sideswipe couldn’t last more than five minutes without bringing interfacing into a conversation. Although, now Sunstreaker thought about it…

                “I’m a lock without a key, Ratch. I’m feeling unsatisfied,” Sideswipe continued.

                “Hey!” Sunstreaker barked, no longer amused and now offended. Less than an hour ago, he had pounded into that valve and reduced his twin to gibbering whimpers. Sideswipe had certainly seemed satisfied _then_.

                “You know what I mean, Sunny,” Sideswipe rushed to say, transmitting a reassuring pulse along their bond. “I just haven’t had the full Ratchet experience yet.”

                Sunstreaker settled back in his chair, mollified. Damn _straight_ he satisfied his twin.

                “Huh…” Ratchet looked thoughtful. “You might be right. Never really thought about it… I guess I like seeing the two of you together so much I don’t even consider taking a turn.”

                “Red and gold do go together quite well,” Sunstreaker interjected, knowing it was true. He was more handsome than his brother, of that there was no doubt. But Sideswipe was good looking in his own way and together they had been known to turn a room full of heads.

                “You are welcome to take a turn. _Encouraged_ to take a turn. Anytime. Now even,” Sideswipe replied, optics gleaming suggestively as he gazed at Ratchet. A pede hopefully rubbed up against the side of Ratchet’s hip, and he looked down at it with a wry smile.

                “I’ll keep that in mind,” Ratchet replied dryly. “But not now; this is quiet time.”

                He hefted his data pad meaningfully, and Sideswipe collapsed back against his pillow with a disappointed groan. Sunstreaker hid his fond smile by ducking his head, turning his attention back to his sketch pad.

                “How did I know you were going to say that?”

                “Because we all agreed to it. Have you finished your stories yet?” Ratchet inquired pointedly.

                Sideswipe ex-vented heavily, grabbing his abandoned reading device and flicking it back on with a pout. “No. But next time, Ratchet. I want that spike.”

 

\--

 

                 Sideswipe moaned around his mouthful and arched his back to meet his brother’s strokes. Pleasure was a white hot coil in his abdomen, overload just a few minutes away. Sunstreaker was pounding into him at a hard and steady pace, and Ratchet’s hands were reverently cradling Sideswipe’s helm as the medic thrust his spike in and out of Sideswipe’s mouth. It all felt so good, yet Sideswipe had the nagging thought he was forgetting something…

                 His optic shutters popped open and he stared up at Ratchet, observing the medic’s expression of concentration. On Ratchet’s next withdrawal, Sideswipe turned his head to the side, strings of oral lubricant stretching from his lips to the tip of Ratchet’s spike as it popped loose from Sideswipe’s mouth.

                 “Stop,” Sideswipe gasped.

                 Behind him, Sunstreaker faltered, sinking deep and leaning on Sideswipe’s shoulder to look into his face. Ratchet looked adorably bewildered and not a little frustrated, judging by the quick hand which replaced Sideswipe’s mouth. “What?”

                 “The two of you… switch out. I want Ratch’s spike.”

                 “Right now?” Sunstreaker demanded, irritation replacing concern.

                 “You had it,” Ratchet replied, shuffling forward on his knees and nudging Sideswipe’s cheek with the tip of the hard length.

                 Sideswipe reflexively nuzzled it, unable to resist giving the head a little lick. Sunstreaker twitched at the sight, his pelvis starting to make little circling motions against Sideswipe’s aft. This would be a whole lot easier if his brother would get with the program too, but apparently neither of his lovers wanted to heed Sideswipe’s instructions.

                 “Yeah, and now I want it in my valve.”

                 “You can’t always get what you want, impertinent brat,” Ratchet chided. Just then, Sunstreaker withdrew nearly the entire length of his spike, only to slam back home in the next instant, prompting a cry to tear itself free past Sideswipe’s lips.

                 Well. He guessed that was Sunstreaker’s answer.

                 Ratchet took the opportunity to thrust back into Sideswipe’s mouth, and this time Ratchet’s grip on Sideswipe’s helm was a lot firmer.

                 Fine then. Next time.

 

\-- 

 

                 “Are you done yet?”

The unexpected voice in the otherwise silent room startled Ratchet so badly his stylus flew through the air, landing a foot away atop his desk and promptly rolling off to clatter on the floor. Ratchet lifted a glare to the smirking frontliner leaning against the office doorway.

                “No. I’m not done yet,” Ratchet replied stiffly, bending over to grab at the stylus. He straightened with it in his hand, frowning when he saw the tip of the apparatus was now blunted.

                “You’re off shift,” Sunstreaker pointed out, leaning back just enough to stare significantly into the main treatment room. Now that he wasn’t so focused on the report in front of him, Ratchet could hear the faint sounds of conversation between Hoist and… Tracks?

                Ratchet shook his head in irritation, dialing his audials down. If he wasn’t on duty, then he didn’t have to listen to Tracks’ inane complaints about his paint. “Doesn’t mean I don’t still have reports to finish.”

                “You have other things to finish,” Sunstreaker retorted, pushing off from the doorway and shutting the door at the same time. Hips swinging, he ambled across the short distance separating himself and Ratchet’s desk. “Namely… me.”

                “What are you talk… oh,” Ratchet said, wincing in sudden remembrance.

                Sunstreaker had  _not_  been pleased when Ratchet had been called in an hour early for his shift because of a mishap on the firing range. The golden mech had been quite enjoying the attention of Ratchet’s glossa on an important bit of Sunstreaker’s anatomy at the time and protested vehemently about Ratchet leaving. Ratchet had promised to pick up where he left off as soon as his shift ended... which was almost two hours ago. Ratchet was a little surprised Sunstreaker hadn’t shown up earlier.  

                “Yeah… ‘oh’,” Sunstreaker murmured, rounding the corner of Ratchet’s desk. He placed a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder and shoved, the wheeled chair beneath him moving backwards a foot, no doubt helped along by Ratchet’s surprised flail.  

                In one smooth motion, Sunstreaker deposited himself atop Ratchet’s lap, lacing his fingers behind Ratchet’s neck. The frontliner stared down at him with a raised orbital ridge as Ratchet spluttered.

                “You can’t…!”

                His protests died off as Sunstreaker bent his head and captured Ratchet’s lips with his own. Sunstreaker’s glossa neatly slid between Ratchet’s parted lipplates and swiped along his lower denta. Humming, Sunstreaker pressed forward, ravaging Ratchet’s mouth without mercy. It was all Ratchet could do to hold on (to Sunstreaker’s aft; it was at the perfect height for grabbing) and muffle his groans into his partner’s mouth.

                When Sunstreaker finally drew back several minutes later, Ratchet was practically panting, his cooling fans whirling merrily.

                The golden mech smirked down at Ratchet’s, no doubt, dazed expression. “Still need to get those reports done?”

                In answer, Ratchet got a better grip on the back of Sunstreaker’s thighs and pushed himself to standing, the chair rolling backwards to collide with the wall. Sunstreaker’s optics widened in surprise as he tightened his hold on the back of Ratchet’s neck, legs wrapping more securely around Ratchet’s waist.

                The cot in the adjourning room of the office was supposed to be for catching bouts of recharge in between checking on patients, but it would, and had, serve for other activities as well.

                “They can wait until later,” Ratchet explained, voice rough with desire. “I’m off duty after all.”

                “You most certainly are,” Sunstreaker replied triumphantly. Moments later, his back hit the cot surface. Ratchet landed atop him, the warrior’s legs still wrapped around his middle. Their lips met, mouths slotting together and glossa dueling for dominance. Surprisingly, Ratchet found himself in control of the kiss after only seconds, Sunstreaker relaxing back with a throaty murmur.

                Muffled between their bodies, Ratchet heard a soft click and then felt a rise of heat. He pushed himself up onto his hands, breaking away from the kiss with his partner. Sitting back on his heels, he saw Sunstreaker’s array had been partly bared, the flushed valve exposed and shining with lubricant.

                “Thinking about where we left off?” Ratchet asked with a smirk. He reached out and lightly traced the rim of the soft metalmesh surrounding the port opening, and Sunstreaker shuddered. His back arched, his pelvis tilting up to push his valve against Ratchet’s hand.

                “A bit,” the frontliner said, vocalizer crackling slightly with static. “Spike me?”

                Ratchet froze, index finger poised over Sunstreaker’s softly glowing anterior node. “Spike you? I thought only your brother…”

                “I want you,” Sunstreaker said quietly, his demeanor suddenly turning nervous.

                Ratchet’s spark swelled even as his lines filled with ice. He had been spending more and more off duty time with the twins lately. Not just interfacing, although they certainly did that a great deal, and would do so more often if Sideswipe had a say. But there was also hours spent reading in one another’s company, watching movies, playing board games, or even taking a drive.

                It was… unexpectedly nice, especially for something Ratchet had thought would just be a fling. And apparently he wasn’t the only one who was getting a bit more invested.

                Ratchet’s fingers stroked over the seeping entrance of Sunstreaker’s awaiting valve. Oh, how he wished he could sink deep into that warm, inviting port. But no… he couldn’t take that chance.

                “I want you too,” Ratchet replied earnestly, his middle finger sinking knuckle deep into that clasping heat. Sunstreaker shivered, optics darkening. “But not without your brother present.”

                “I don’t need him…!” Sunstreaker protested.

                “You do,” Ratchet said, shaking his head. This at least, was completely true. Sunstreaker’s shoulders were hunched and his field had a tinge of fear. Ratchet didn’t know the whole truth, not yet, but he _did_ know Sunstreaker never let anyone spike him other than Sideswipe. “Look at you. You’re tense at the thought. I appreciate the offer, but I want you to be completely comfortable.”

                Sunstreaker subsided a little, denta worrying his lower lip. “I _do_ want you.”

                “Oh, sweetspark,” Ratchet purred, another finger joining the first. He bent them to rub the underside of the valve rim, enjoying the full body shiver the action produced. “I know you do; I have proof of that. Now… let’s see about me finishing you off in ways you _are_ comfortable with.”

                Sunstreaker moaned as Ratchet’s fingers caressed recessed sensor nodes. Optic shutters slipping closed, he let his helm fall back as his thighs spread. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You do that.”

 

~ End Part 1

 

The rest coming tonight, just ran out of time before work...!

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can have my isolation / you can have the hate that it brings"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the wait, guys. There were internet issues and by the time I checked the clock, I had to dash to work and all I left you with was the smallish first part. I totally did not mean to be a tease, so here's the rest!

                “Mmmm… we missed you,” Sideswipe murmured, nibbling Ratchet’s neck cables on the left. Sunstreaker was entirely devoted to the right and enjoyed the pleasant buzz through his lipplates when the medic spoke.

                “I’ve only been gone a week. That’s a blink of an eye for us,” Ratchet replied, hands stroking Sideswipe’s hips as the red frame slowly undulated in Ratchet’s lap. Sunstreaker was seated behind their lover, chest pressed up against Ratchet’s back and his own hands petting whatever plating he could reach.

                “Well, it was a very lonely blink,” Sideswipe replied. ‘’Didn’t you miss us?”

                Sideswipe had been mopey the entire time Ratchet had been attending the local science conference. The minute Ratchet had stepped back into his quarters, Sideswipe had pounced on him, dragging him over to the berth and shoving him down atop Sunstreaker’s lap.

                Sunstreaker hadn’t minded in the slightest. While he hadn’t been as visibly down as Sideswipe, Sunstreaker _had_ been much more temperamental while Ratchet had been away. Only the thought of how disappointed Ratchet would be in him if the medic returned to a medbay full of dismembered minibots had kept Sunstreaker’s temper in check.

                “Of course I did, but…”

                “I think you should show us how much you missed us,” Sideswipe continued, ducking his head to lay kisses across Ratchet’s windshield. “You never got a chance to spike Sunny when I got back from that escort duty for Prime – you left the next day for the conference thingy. Well, we’re all back together now, so whip it out, baby.”

                As Sideswipe wriggled suggestively on Ratchet’s lap, Sunstreaker felt a barely there tremor run through Ratchet’s shoulders. Sunstreaker withdrew from his lover’s neck and thoughtfully stared at the back of Ratchet’s helm.

                “I could do that… _or_ … we could do something else I’ve been thinking about. The two of you… together… inside _my_ valve,” Ratchet suggested.

                Sideswipe’s head shot up, and Sunstreaker saw his twin’s optics brighten at the thought. He had to admit… the idea certainly had appeal. But this was the second time now Ratchet had put off spiking Sunstreaker. And he couldn’t blame discomfort on Sunstreaker’s part as his resolve had only firmed the more time had passed since his original proposition.

                “Mmmm… that sounds fun…” Sideswipe replied with another eager wiggle.

                Before that train of thought left the station, Sunstreaker pulsed his brother the equivalent of a frowny face.

                _What? That would be hot as the Pit,_ Sideswipe protested, feeling some of Sunstreaker’s reluctance.

                _Sure. Definitely. But why doesn’t he spike us? Why won’t he spike_ me _?_ Sunstreaker asked. And if it had a tinge of petulance to it, so what. Sunstreaker already had enough complexes; he didn’t need another. He had never known a mech to not want him. 

                _Oh, yeah. Huh. He keeps distracting me from that_ , Sideswipe mused, even as he shuffled backwards a little to plunge a hand between Ratchet’s thighs.

                _He’s awfully good at that, isn’t he?_ Sunstreaker returned.

                _So am I._ Sideswipe’s end of the bond now practically radiated deviousness. _Don’t worry… he’ll spike you if I have anything to say about it._

                “Gonna open up for me, baby?” Sideswipe purred.

                Sunstreaker heard a quiet ‘click’, heralding the retraction of Ratchet’s interface cover. Almost immediately, his body jolted as Sideswipe did something with his hand. A moment later, Ratchet’s helm fell back against Sunstreaker’s shoulder, optics dimming in pleasure and mouth opening on a silent cry. Sunstreaker looked over Ratchet’s shoulder to see both of Sideswipe’s hands in use – one pumping fingers in and out of Ratchet’s port, the other enthusiastically stroking his pressurizing spike.

                Sideswipe looked up, his gaze meeting Sunstreaker’s and one violet blue optic slowly shuttered in a wink.

                “I really like the idea of you spreading yourself wide around us, Ratchet. I can’t even imagine how that would feel… the two of us… fighting for space inside this tight little valve of yours,” Sideswipe murmured, pausing and sliding another finger in along the first two. Ratchet sighed, his legs shifting to allow Sideswipe more room.

                “I bet you’ve done it before... dirty old mech,” Sideswipe said a note of delight entering his narration. “I bet you love being stuffed to the brim with spike.”

                Even as he spoke, Sideswipe carefully lifted himself up onto his knees, and Sunstreaker watched avidly as his brother’s panel slid aside as well. Sideswipe’s spike sprang free, and valve lubricant immediately dripped down to the berth between Ratchet’s spread thighs.

                _Kiss him,_ Sideswipe commanded, releasing Ratchet’s spike to slip fingers into Sideswipe’s port. His servo withdrew from between his thighs a moment later, digits glistening in the overhead light. As Sunstreaker craned his head to find Ratchet’s lips, he saw Sideswipe’s wet fingers wrap back around Ratchet’s spike and squeeze.

                Sunstreaker caught the resulting moan with his mouth, glossa massaging the seam of Ratchet’s lips before pushing between them. Ratchet arched into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to clamp down on the back of Sunstreaker’s neck.

                _I’ll warm him up for you, bro,_ Sideswipe sent. He immediately followed it up with an image capture of Sideswipe staring down the length of his body, Ratchet’s spike aimed at the apex of Sideswipe’s thighs. Sunstreaker had to stamp down a surge of jealousy over Sideswipe getting that spike first. There would always be two of them to Ratchet’s one; Sunstreaker had experienced plenty of firsts over his brother.

                Ratchet suddenly shuddered in Sunstreaker’s arms, breaking away from the kiss to pant heated air across Sunstreaker’s face. The medic’s hips nudged upwards, and Sunstreaker watched as Ratchet’s other hand came up to grip Sideswipe’s waist as he impaled himself fully on Ratchet’s spike. Sideswipe grinned triumphantly at Sunstreaker.

                “Who knows? Maybe I’ll let the two of you spike _me_ like that,” Sideswipe said, licking his lips as he stared down at where his and Ratchet’s body met. He braced his hands on Ratchet’s shoulders and began raising himself up. “But first I’m gonna ride you for a bit, and then you’re gonna give Sunny what he’s been asking for.”

                Ratchet made a strangled noise, his hand tightening down on Sunstreaker’s neck even as the rest of him froze.

                “No!” he exclaimed, suddenly bursting into motion in the next second. He flailed, one arm punching out and shoving forcefully at Sideswipe. Off balance, Sideswipe yelped, tumbling right off Ratchet’s lap and then the berth. Then Sunstreaker was left trying to hold on to a wildly struggling medic.

                They had more height, more fighting experience… but Ratchet had sheer mass on his side. His ambulance alt mode had reinforced shielding around his transport bay and his root mode had redundant armor to protect against rambunctious patients.

                So it was inevitable really, that Ratchet escaped from Sunstreaker’s grip. He ended up on the opposite side of the bed, crouched in the corner. He shied away from Sunstreaker’s outreaching hand, pressing himself further against the wall and panting heavily.

                Sideswipe’s head popped up over the side of the berth, his shoulders quickly following as he rose up onto his knees. “Wow. Ok. So that just happened.”

                He and Sunstreaker exchanged looks, both of them bouncing a feeling of disquiet back and forth across their bond. Neither one had ever thought Ratchet would react so violently, and now they felt rather guilty about it. Well. Sunstreaker felt guilty. From his brother, Sunstreaker could feel a hint of remorse, but it was nearly smothered by sheer curiosity.

                “You all right, Ratchet?” Sunstreaker ventured after giving Sideswipe a mental shove. Sideswipe looked up at him, shrugging. Then he stilled and looked over at Ratchet in horror.

                “Did I... did I hurt you?” Sideswipe asked, optics spiraling wide at the possibility. It didn’t seem possible, but they certainly didn’t know everything about Ratchet. For all they knew, his spike was allergic to valve lubricant or something.

                “Should we call Hoist?” Sunstreaker added, poised to send a ping to the on duty medic.

                Ratchet rapidly shook his head. “No, of course not. Don’t be idiots, I’m fine.”

                “Well, then what happened?” Sideswipe demanded, slowly crawling back up onto the berth. He avoided Ratchet entirely and instead sat down next to Sunstreaker, drawing his knees up and observing their lover over the top of them.

                “You… you don’t understand…” Ratchet said, turning his head to look longingly at the door. His energy field was withdrawn and his armor slicked down, the very picture of unease.

                Sunstreaker exchanged another glance with his brother. “You are absolutely right about that, Ratchet. Is it… is it _us_? Is there something… wrong… with us?” Sunstreaker asked hesitantly, looking down at his lap. Maybe that was it. They were twins, after all. Maybe something about their frames just didn’t work with Ratchet’s. Although they had been with other models before, Ratchet was the oldest by far.  

                Ratchet’s head whipped around and he pushed himself to his knees, leaning forward until he could lay a hand on each of their ankles.

                “There is absolutely nothing wrong with either of you. You have to believe me when I say that; I know you both inside and out,” Ratchet said firmly, gaze earnest.

                “Ok, then what?!” Sideswipe exploded, practically vibrating with a mix of irritation and anxiety. “If you’re a valve mech, then just say so. You don’t have even have to say why. Things happen, we know that,” he explained, pointing between himself and Sunstreaker. “We’ll understand.”

                Ratchet hesitated before shaking his head. “It would be so easy to use that excuse, but no, Sides. I actually like spiking. Very much.”

                Sideswipe wordlessly threw up his hands in exasperation, and Sunstreaker agreed with him. What the Pit was Ratchet’s problem?

                “It’s… well, you see…” Ratchet began, but trailed off, looking extremely uncomfortable. He released their ankles and slowly moved back towards his corner, increasing the distance between them. Sunstreaker leaned into his brother, suddenly nervous. Ratchet never hesitated, never let anything get in his way. This had to be bad, whatever it was.

                Ratchet sat back onto the heels of his pedes with a heavy ex-vent. “It’s… my spike… well, it’s modified from what you are used to.”

                Sunstreaker’s gaze was drawn to Ratchet’s lap, where the medic’s spike had depressurized, only the head peeping out of its sheath. He tilted his head to the side in consideration. Ratchet’s equipment looked pretty standard; proportional to his frame size and red in color except for a brilliant white strip on the underside. In fact, both he and his brother had touched and licked the spike in question without noticing anything out of the ordinary.

                As is hearing Sunstreaker’s thoughts, Sideswipe piped up. “Looks normal to me. Felt normal too. Just now and when you’ve overloaded in my mouth or my hand in the past. Why should being in a valve be any different?”

                “Erm. Well… I’m a bit older than the two of you, you know that,” Ratchet offered, looking up at them through lowered optic shutters. “Cybertronians as a species have always had low reproductive rates. They were even lower when I onlined. One of the methods to improve that was a very specific spike modification which allowed more time and opportunity for the transfluid to work its way through the reproductive channel to the spark chamber. The modification is called ‘knotting’.”

                As soon as he said it, Ratchet tensed as if expecting shouts of dismay or disgust. What he got was two identical confused looks.

                “Okayyyy…” Sideswipe drawled. “Gonna need some more info than that, Ratch.”

                “You’ve never heard of it before?” Ratchet asked, looking surprised.

                The brothers exchanged another look before Sunstreaker shook his head. “Never.”

                “Oh. Well. I guess it’s possible to not have run across it before, considering your youth.”

                “All right, so how does the knotting work exactly?” Sideswipe asked.

                “The spike… the first part of the interface is what you would be used to. But… towards the end… near overload… there’s an area near the base that… well, it swells.”

                “Swells?” Sideswipe repeated, looking skeptical. “Like… gets harder?”

                “Yes and no,” Ratchet said. “The entire circumference of the spike base swells large enough to… to become stuck… just behind the valve rim.”

                “Stuck. Just how big does it get?” Sideswipe asked, raising his hand and holding his thumb and index finger apart roughly one and a half times the width of his own or Sunstreaker’s spike.  

                “Big. Bigger than that. I’ve never measured my own, but easily the width of two spikes,” Ratchet explained.

                Sunstreaker blinked several times at their lover, drawing his knees up to his chest protectively. That… sounded painful. Sideswipe, on the other hand, leaned forward, seemingly intrigued.

                “So it gets that big so transfluid doesn’t leak out, right?” he asked, making the connection.

                “Exactly. And lasts for about ten minutes or so,” Ratchet added. “There were valve modifications installed at that time as well to more easily take the knots – the interior rim would clamp down behind the knot and rhythmically spasm, helping draw transfluid out of the reservoir and through the spike.”

                “A ten minute overload?” Sideswipe inquired, optics brightening. Sunstreaker rolled his; of course Sideswipe would find all this sexy.

                “Don’t get so excited, Sides,” Ratchet replied, shaking his head. “This system is antiquated; no one has the matching hardware installed anymore.”

                “But yet you still have the originals,” Sunstreaker pointed out.

                Ratchet looked irritated. “Yes. I do. It’s a delicate operation; I’ve removed the components many times myself, but something always came up when it was time for my surgery. And now… now there’s no one skilled enough to remove mine.”

                “I’m still not seeing the problem here, Ratch,” Sideswipe interjected.

                “You don’t have the matching components, Sideswipe,” Ratchet said in exasperation. “It would hurt. Quite badly. And once I’ve knotted, there would be no stopping until the transfluid reservoir emptied. It’s not a process I can just turn off; the software is intrinsically written into my base code.”

                Sideswipe smiled lopsidedly. “I think you underestimate our tolerance for pain. ‘Sides, if there was proper prepping ahead of time, I think it could work.” Sideswipe looked over at Sunstreaker and arched an orbital ridge in question. Sunstreaker frowned slightly and shook his head. The way Ratchet described it… it did not sound like a good time.

                Sideswipe shrugged, still appearing interested.

                Ratchet was shaking his head, lips pursed. “No. No, Sideswipe, whatever you’re thinking, no. I will not hurt you.”

                Sideswipe rolled himself up to his knees, smiling reassuringly. “I get the notion you’ve hurt someone else before. But they weren’t us. They weren’t me. I don’t mind when things get a little rough, you know that.”

                “This is like nothing you’ve ever done before, Sideswipe,” Ratchet repeated, back pressing into the wall as he watched Sideswipe slowly slink closer on hands and knees.

                “Mm. I’ve taken Sunny’s hand a few times before. Didn’t have a problem. Also begged him for more, if I remember correctly,” Sideswipe said, winking over his shoulder at Sunstreaker.

                Sunstreaker felt a thrill run up his backstrut in remembrance. There was something to be said for watching your entire servo sink into another’s valve.

                “The knot would be wider,” Ratchet warned.

                Sideswipe planted his hands on the berth to either side of Ratchet’s hips, looking up at him with what was probably a leer, knowing his brother. Sunstreaker couldn’t really see from this angle.

                “Sounds good. Come on, Ratchet. You’ve had your fingers and your glossa in my valve…” Sideswipe purred, rising up on his knees and brushing his chest against Ratchet’s as he did so. His servos landed on Ratchet’s shoulders and he lifted a knee to straddle Ratchet’s upper left thigh. Sunstreaker’s spark spun a little faster as a drop of lubricant fell from Sideswipe’s still bared port onto the white plating.

Sunstreaker wasn’t interested in being knotted at this time… but he would definitely watch if Sideswipe managed to convince Ratchet to try it.

                “… give me your spike, too.”

                Sunstreaker could just see Ratchet’s face; fear and desire warred there, and Sunstreaker completely understood. Sideswipe was sheer temptation.

                Finally though, Ratchet’s expression turned to one of resolve. “No.”

                He gently pushed Sideswipe away, likely intending to slip out from between him and the wall, but Sideswipe dramatically threw himself backwards, making Ratchet pause. Sideswipe promptly thrust three fingers into his valve, legs spreading obscenely.

                “Bet ya I could make you reconsider. Wanna help, Sunny?” Sideswipe asked, cooling fans speeding up slightly. Sunstreaker’s mouth went dry, knowing what his brother was asking.

                Ratchet looked from one twin to the other. “Nothing you say or do is going to make me change my processor.”

                Sideswipe shrugged, indolently sprawled across the middle of the berth. “Maybe, maybe not. Nevertheless, I’m gonna get off in a spectacular manner and you get a free show. So win-win all around. Oh, hey!”

                Sunstreaker grabbed hold of Sideswipe’s shoulders and tugged him farther up the berth. He scooted the rest of the way as Sunstreaker got up, raising an orbital ridge at Ratchet as he passed the flabbergasted medic.

                “Did you replace the lube?” Sunstreaker asked, walking over to their storage closet and rummaging around inside.

                “Uh huh,” Sideswipe replied with a breathy moan. “Whole new bottle. In the back.”

                “Wait… what exactly are you doing?” Ratchet demanded as Sunstreaker grabbed hold of the flask and made his way back to the berth. He settled atop it between Sideswipe’s spread thighs, observing a puddle of lubricant already pooling under his brother’s aft and four fingers stuffed into that dripping port. Typical impatient Sideswipe.   

                “Fisting him,” Sunstreaker said over his shoulder as he flicked the bottle open and poured its contents over his hand. When he had a nice pool of the shimmering liquid cupped in his palm, he tossed the bottle aside, and began smearing the lube across his opposite servo, wrist, and fingers.

                “You don’t have to do that to prove a point,” Ratchet protested. He fidgeted in place for a moment longer before coming around to stand by the berthside, looking down on both twins.

                “We’re not,” Sunstreaker returned, tugging Sideswipe’s hand away despite his very loud protest. “Sides loves it. You got him all inspired with the knotting info. You ready?”

                “So ready, Sunny. Fill me up,” Sideswipe gasped, legs moving restlessly across the berth.

                Sunstreaker slowly inserted four well-lubed up fingers back into Sideswipe’s valve, testing the resistance. Sideswipe bore down on Sunstreaker’s servo with a disappointed moan. “All of it, Sunny, come on!”

                “Don’t rush me, you impatient brat,” Sunstreaker replied crossly and lightly swatted his brother on the belly. No matter how much Sideswipe whined, Sunstreaker would never hurry this. There was real possibility for injury, no matter how much Sideswipe always insisted he could take it.

                “You’re not… you’re not upset with me?” Ratchet asked, leaning over to get a better look as Sunstreaker slowly pumped his fingers in and out, curling them under while swiveling his hand to sweep across the interior rim nodes.

                “Frag, no!” Sideswipe gasped, clutching at the berth. “Well… might be… if you don’t end up spiking me.”

                “I don’t want to hurt you,” Ratchet repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

                Sunstreaker tilted his head, looking at Ratchet sidelong. “You might not. Watch this.”

                He slowly removed his fingers, now practically dripping with natural lubricant. He enfolded his thumb along his palm and pressed the digits back against Sideswipe’s entrance. His brother propped himself up on his palms, staring fixedly at the sight of Sunstreaker’s servo slowly sinking into him.

                Sideswipe’s ventilations caught as the widest part of Sunstreaker’s hand butted up against the rim of the valve. He steadily pushed inwards, the initial brief resistance abruptly falling away as Sideswipe collapsed onto his back, trembling.

                “Sides!” Ratchet exclaimed, rushing forward to place a hand on a red shoulder.

                “He’s fine,” Sunstreaker reported, pausing to let the wildly fluttering port adjust to its new stretch.

                “Totally fine,” Sideswiped added in a murmur, dim optics staring up at Ratchet. “Hmmm… tickles.”

                Sunstreaker looked up to see Ratchet’s a familiar unfocused expression on his faceplates; he was scanning Sideswipe, checking him for damage. He wasn’t likely to find any; they had done this multiple times before and Sideswipe was well revved up from Ratchet’s talk about knotting. Sunstreaker doubted Sideswipe would last much longer as it was.

                Judging his brother to be relaxed enough, Sunstreaker continued to work his hand deeper in slow, smooth increments. Every now and then, he retreated only to immediately slide farther in. Sunstreaker divided his attention between the spasming valve around his servo and watching his brother’s face for any signs of pain or distress. Of course, he never found any. Sideswipe’s whole body was shaking, but his expression was one of bliss and cries of pleasure continually fell from his lips.

                “You… you do this often?” Ratchet asked quietly. Sunstreaker blinked up at their lover; he had almost forgotten Ratchet was there, so focused as he was on his brother. Ratchet’s optics were bright, his ventilations fast and shallow. His gaze seemed fixed on where Sunstreaker’s servo was now completely engulfed by his brother’s body.

                “Every now and then,” Sunstreaker replied, the tips of his fingers nudging up against Sideswipe’s ceiling nodes. His brother went silent, frame strung tight and vibrating as Sunstreaker gently rotated his arm back and forth, pressing hard against those sensors. “Want to give it a go?”

                Sideswipe made a little whimper and arched his back, valve clamping down tightly around Sunstreaker’s hand. A low, guttural moan tore out of his brother’s throat and the walls around his fingers spasmed arrhythmically in overload. Sideswipe writhed atop the berth, and Sunstreaker was hard pressed to move with him, fingers strumming those deep nodes and drawing out the overload for as long as possible. Behind his panel, Sunstreaker’s valve ached in sympathy, lubricant overflowing to trickle down his thighs.

                Some of the tension began leaving Sideswipe’s body as climax finally ebbed, and Sunstreaker carefully and gently began withdrawing his hand until only four fingers remained. He left them there, just within the entrance to Sideswipe’s port, and got to his knees to lean over his brother.

                Sideswipe’s optics onlined, gaze hazy and unfocused as he looked up at his brother. “Good?” Sunstreaker asked, minutely wriggling his fingers.

                Vocalizer clicking several times, Sideswipe finally gave up on speaking and nodded. His gaze slid over to Ratchet, and Sideswipe gave him a tired smirk. Sunstreaker bent down and kissed his brother’s cheek before looking up at Ratchet through half shuttered optics.

                The medic looked wrecked, optics too bright and cooling fans whirling as loudly as Sideswipe’s. Red fingers clutched at elbows hard enough to dent plating, and Ratchet fidgeted in place, gaze darting from their faces and then to Sideswipe’s wantonly spread thighs.

                “You should feel him,” Sunstreaker suggested, thrusting his fingers in once before curling them under and massaging the metalmesh rim of Sideswipe’s port. “Feel how loose he is.”

                “I… are you sure?” Ratchet asked, but he was already moving forward. He placed one knee on the berth and stared at Sideswipe’s groin. Blindly, Ratchet groped for the bottle of discarded lube, finally finding it and pouring some over his hand. As he slicked his servo, Sunstreaker moved to the side, slowly withdrawing his hand despite Sideswipe’s wordless protests.

                Almost gingerly, Ratchet reached out a shaking servo and touched Sideswipe’s valve, reverently stroking it. Sideswipe tilted his pelvis up, hand sneaking down to grasp Ratchet’s wrist to try and pull him closer.

                “Please,” Sideswipe managed after rebooting his vocalizer. “Please, Ratch. All of it.”

                “My hand is wider than your brother’s,” Ratchet said absently, sinking two fingers in up to the knuckle. Almost immediately, he added a third, Sunstreaker leaning forward and watching carefully. No matter how much Sideswipe was pinging him with lust and want, Sunstreaker wouldn’t tolerate his brother being hurt. And sometimes his brother didn’t know when he had crossed that line into ‘too much’.

                “More…” Sideswipe moaned, knees rising and spreading wide in invitation.

                “Stop being so greedy,” Ratchet admonished, pulling back to add a fourth digit. They thrust in, natural and artificial lubricant mixing and welling up around Ratchet’s fingers.

                Ratchet pulled back out, reaching for the bottle again, but Sunstreaker grabbed his wrist and forced the medic’s fingers into the proper position before positioning them at Sideswipe’s valve. “He’s wet enough, just do it.”

                “I… alright,” Ratchet acquiesced, digits already beginning to spear through the metalmesh lips of Sideswipe’s valve. Sunstreaker didn’t blame him; it was intoxicating to feel that molten heat suck at one’s fingers. Sunstreaker imagined it was even more thrilling for Ratchet and his sensitive hands. “Oh.”

                “Told you he’s loose,” Sunstreaker said smugly, watching as Ratchet’s hand sunk in.

                “Oh, frag yeah,” Sideswipe moaned, reaching up to clutch at Sunstreaker. “More, Ratch. Promise I won’t break.”

                Ratchet reached out his other hand and placed it atop Sideswipe’s lower belly, soothingly stroking the plating there. “And yet I’ve seen you in pieces on my operating table plenty of times before,” he said wryly, rotating his arm a few degrees to the left and then to the right, the widest part of his servo pressing against the valve lips. Sideswipe’s legs quivered.

                “This is different,” Sideswipe whispered, a look of concentration crossing his faceplates. In the next instant, Ratchet’s hand moved past the resistance as if it hadn’t existed in the first place, the medic making a sound of surprise.

                “That’s amazing,” Ratchet murmured, looking down at his own arm in awe. “You took it like it was nothing.”

                Sprawled out, covered in fluids and condensation, Sideswipe still managed to preen smugly.

                “I’m surprised you’ve never done this before,” Sunstreaker commented, continuing to wordlessly ping his twin for updates. He kept getting back incoherent pulses of satisfaction and pleasure.

                “It’s never really come up. I’ve treated injuries related to the practice, however,” Ratchet said, his free hand trailing down over Sideswipe’s pelvic arch to trace the stretched lips of his port. They rippled as Ratchet’s hand went deeper.

                “I’m sure. You get an overeager recipient,” Sunstreaker said, giving Sideswipe the evil optic, “and not enough prep and I can imagine some tears.”

                “Mmhm. And now I actually form a fist?” Ratchet asked, attention completely devoted to his task.

                Sideswipe clutched Sunstreaker tighter, whimpering at Ratchet’s words. Sunstreaker had to lean forward and grab Ratchet’s arm, keeping him from drawing back in alarm.

                “He’s fine. He’s just really excited you’re doing this,” Sunstreaker explained. ‘Excited’ was an understatement, really.

                “Feels sooo good, Ratch,” Sideswipe slurred. “Please… please, let me have your spike? Can take it, promise!”

                Ratchet glanced to his own lap where his array was still bared. His spike rose firmly from the junction of his lubricant-soaked thighs, pre-transfluid leaking down it. Hesitant the medic might be, but Ratchet was not unaffected by this little show. Sunstreaker waited to see what their lover would say next.

 

~ End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My whole existence is flawed / you get me closer to god"

                Speared by Ratchet’s entire fragging arm, all Sideswipe could think was that he wanted more. More of the delicious stimulation of some of his deepest interior nodes; more of Ratchet himself, connecting to him in the intimate way of spike and valve.

                He could tell the medic was seriously thinking about it. He _had_ to be tempted. What would get him to take that final step?

                Sideswipe undulated his hips, clamping down on Ratchet’s hand and wrist. It was an odd sensation to be split open this far, but definitely not painful. Not with this much preparation and as worked up as he was. Ratchet’s knot was probably big, yeah, but Sideswipe had no doubt he could take it.

                “Please, Ratchet,” Sideswipe whispered, craning his head to look at the medic. “Just once. Just _try_.”

                Ratchet shook his head, expression tortured, and Sideswipe’s spark fell. “I’m going to regret doing this, aren’t I?”

                It took a moment for Ratchet’s works to really sink in, distracted as Sideswipe was by Ratchet’s withdrawal of his hand. “Wha… you mean…?”

                “Yes. I’ll do it,” Ratchet said, frowning. His gaze was locked on Sideswipe’s valve, keeping a careful eye on the port as the widest part of Ratchet’s hand popped free.

                “Wow. Don’t be excited or anything,” Sunstreaker commented, soothingly patting Sideswipe’s arm when he moaned at the loss. His valve clenched down on nothing, horribly empty.

                “This will end in disaster,” Ratchet intoned, holding his hand up to watch as rivulets of lubricant trailed down his wrist.

                Well, damn. That just wouldn’t do. Sideswipe laboriously pushed himself up, reaching for Ratchet. “Hey. It might not work. I might not be able to handle it. But then we’ll know, and we’ll move on. No hard feelings, huh?”

                Ratchet stared at him, looking astonished. “I could really hurt you… and you just automatically forgive me?”

                Sunstreaker kneeled on Ratchet’s other side as Sideswipe leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ratchet’s cheek. “Babe, don’t think I don’t know we’re the ones doing the pushing. If I get hurt, it will be my fault.”

                “But…”

                Sideswipe moved his head, capturing Ratchet’s lips with his own. They buzzed pleasantly as Ratchet moaned, pressing up into the kiss almost immediately. Despite his protests, they had ample evidence Ratchet was turned on, if the throbbing spike pulsing against Sideswipe’s abdomen was anything to go on.

                “Now,” Sideswipe announced, breaking away with a smack of his lips. “How do you want me?”

                Ratchet looked at him dazedly and didn’t speak for a moment. When Sideswipe looked down, he saw a gold colored hand sensually stroking the medic’s straining spike. He reached down to still those fingers, meeting Sunstreaker’s smirk over Ratchet’s shoulder with one of his own.

                “Uh…” Ratchet cleared his vocalizer, “like you were. I’d like to be able to watch your face.”

 _Oh, great. So if this is the most agonizing moment of my life, Ratch will be able to take image captures and torment himself with them over and over again,_ Sideswipe complained to his brother.

                Sunstreaker moved away from Ratchet, allowing the two of them to get into position. _Then keep your promise._

                “Ok. How about you suck Sunny off during the first bit, though? He deserves a reward,” Sideswipe suggested, raising an orbital ridge at his brother. Sunstreaker perked up a little at the idea, gleam forming in his optics.

                “I… oh.. I’m not sure how long I’ll last…” Ratchet said, kneeling between Sideswipe’s legs. Sideswipe arched his pelvis, scooting down a little and raising his aft up by draping the back of his thighs over Ratchet’s.

                “Been a while?” Sunstreaker asked, standing and straddling Sideswipe’s lower belly. The yellow and black spike bobbed at a perfect level for Ratchet to lean forward and suck. Damn. Good idea, but bad positioning. Sideswipe couldn’t see anything but the flex of Sunstreaker’s, admittedly delectable, aft.

                “A bit, yes,” Ratchet replied, the slick sounds of a hand stroking a spike becoming audible as he pulled off to speak. 

                “Don’t worry, Ratch. Not gonna say a word about your rusty technique,” Sideswipe quipped, encircling Sunstreaker’s ankles and stroking down behind plating seams. Sunstreaker wobbled a little, and Sideswipe grinned. His brother was adorably sensitive around the ankles and back of the knees. Ratchet didn’t know that, but Sideswipe would let him in on that little secret eventually.

                “Little glitch,” Ratchet growled and an instant later, the unmistakable presence of a blunt spike pushing past Sideswipe’s swollen folds was felt.

                Sideswipe moaned in delight, knees tightening around Ratchet’s blocky waist. “Oooh… strike a nerve, Ratch?”

                “I’ll show you rusty, you scrap heap reject,” Ratchet muttered and thrust deep, withdrawing almost immediately and settling quickly into a steady, unhurried pace, spike tip nudging his ceiling nodes on every other plunge.

                _Stop antagonizing him_ , Sunstreaker chided. _His mouth is needed elsewhere._

Sideswipe laughed across their bond, utterly happy. Yeah, this might all end in disaster, but it was going to be a fun journey to get there.

                Feeling generous, Sideswipe opened his end of their link, letting sensations leak through. Above him, Sunstreaker groaned as he piggybacked on the feeling of Ratchet’s spike entering and leaving Sideswipe’s valve.

                Sideswipe had been surprised at first when Sunstreaker admitted to wanting Rachet to spike him. They had taken multiple partners before, but Sunstreaker hated the vulnerable feeling of being pinned beneath another mech or on display while riding someone. Sideswipe hoped Ratchet understood the enormous amount of trust Sunstreaker was giving the medic with his offer.

                Sideswipe was fully supportive of his brother’s wants and now they knew what Ratchet’s hang-up had been, didn’t see why Ratchet couldn’t spike Sunny anyway. Just pull out before overload since Sunstreaker did not seem interested in being knotted. Problem solved.

                As soon as this was all over, he’d mention it to both of them.

                Right now, though… he was greatly enjoying the shove-drag of Ratchet’s spike across his charged equipment. He continued to feed sensations through to his brother, stroking the delicate components of Sunstreaker’s ankle joints. Sideswipe couldn’t see very well, but he could hear the quiet wet sounds of Ratchet’s mouth around Sunstreaker’s spike, and he watched the minute flex of Sunstreaker’s aft and thighs as he carefully rocked into Ratchet’s intake.

                He could feel Sunstreaker on the edge; his brother enjoyed fisting Sideswipe as much as he enjoyed being on the receiving end of things. Plus Sunstreaker was feeling everything Sideswipe was experiencing on top of the sensations elicited by Ratchet’s talented, warm mouth .

                “How you doing up there, Sunny?” Sideswipe murmured, sliding his hands up Sunstreaker’s calves. Claw tips slid down into the back of each stifle joint, caressing the powerful flexor cables exposed by the gaps in armor there. “How’s his mouth feel?”

                Sunstreaker moaned, legs trembling. Sideswipe guessed that was answer in itself.

                “Feels… good… ngh….” Sunstreaker replied, panting. “Can’t wait to… see you… uh!”

                Sideswipe reeled as Sunstreaker turned the tables on him, bouncing back Sideswipe’s original pleasure and doubling it with his twin’s explosive overload. Sideswipe’s thighs clamped down on Ratchet’s waist, his valve rippling in a sympathetic climax and forcing an oath out of Ratchet. The medic bottomed out and held himself there, hands gripping Sideswipe’s hips hard enough to make plating creak.

                Vision whiting around the edges, Sideswipe saw Sunstreaker sway in place before abruptly folding at the knees. He ended up in a crouch above Sideswipe’s abdomen, one hand gripping Ratchet’s shoulder, the other on Sideswipe’s thigh. Sideswipe grasped his brother around the waist in an attempt to steady him, although he didn’t know how much support he could really give. That last overload had left him a little limp.

                “Slagger,” Sideswipe gasped, thumbs stroking the edges of Sunstreaker’s lower back.

                “You started it,” Sunstreaker replied. He sank all the way down, aft momentarily resting on Sideswipe’s abdomen. Hot lubricant dripped from Sunstreaker’s valve onto Sideswipe’s plating, making his spike twitch at the proximity to such a tempting port. “Thanks, Ratchet.”

                Sunstreaker leaned to the side, swinging a leg over Sideswipe’s head and settling in a slump against the wall. He looked as satisfied as their bond suggested, optic shutters at half-mast and energy field soft around the edges.

                “My pleasure,” Ratchet responded. He unclamped one hand from Sideswipe’s hip and rubbed the back of his servo across his mouth, wiping away the single trail of transfluid leaking from the corner of his lips. But not before Sideswipe grabbed a quick image capture.

                Damn, but Ratchet was sexy. He had already lucked out by sharing sparks with the hottest mech ever created, but then Sideswipe had won the life lottery when Ratchet took up with them.

                “He pull you over?” Ratchet inquired, looking down at Sideswipe. He gazed back, a little mesmerized. Red and white plating was flared, giving tantalizing glimpses of the medic’s protoform, and the whirl of his cooling fans were a sweet harmony against Sideswipe’s and his brother’s.

                “Mmm,” Sideswipe finally replied, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back. Ratchet’s engine made a quiet rev at the sight. “Wasn’t expecting it, so couldn’t block it out.”

                “Thought you could use a little bit more relaxation,” Sunstreaker supplied, one leg sliding out and nudging Sideswipe’s chest.

                “Couldn’t hurt,” Ratchet said. He slid both hands around Sideswipe’s waist to his lower back and pulled Sideswipe further up Ratchet’s lap. “You ok?”

                “Oh, I’m fine,” Sideswipe replied truthfully, optics now fixated on the steady motion of Ratchet’s hips as he began thrusting into him again. Between the artificial lube and his own natural fluids, he was a slick mess. Each movement was practically frictionless, the repetitive glide over primed sensors a maddening tease. “Can’t you feel how fine I am?”

                Ratchet laughed shakily, one hand sliding between Sideswipe’s thighs to stroke his port edges, a finger pushing at one side rim. Sideswipe sighed in response, pelvis canting up at the threat of that digit inserting itself alongside Ratchet’s spike.

                “That I can. Think you’re trying to kill me,” Ratchet murmured, pressing that finger deep inside. He started moving faster, thrusts becoming a little shallower. Sideswipe’s optic shutters fluttered and he arched his neck, anticipation a heady coil in his lower belly.

                “No way. Don’t want you dead. Want your spike.”

                Giving an almost soundless moan, Ratchet added another finger, Sideswipe writhing at the stretch which faded all too quickly. “C’mon, Ratch. More!”

 _You’re filming this, right?_ Sideswipe asked of his twin.

 _Every second_ , Sunstreaker confirmed.

                “So demanding…”

                “Mmmm… yeah. So?” Sideswipe replied with a flash of a smirk at their lover. “Been waiting for this for a while. Was thinking earlier…”

                “Ratchet, you’re not doing it right if he’s still able to think,” Sunstreaker interjected. Sideswipe glared at his brother and then yelped as his waist was squeezed tightly. Ratchet leaned forward and began pulling Sideswipe into every one of Ratchet’s thrusts, the medic’s expression becoming concentrated.

                “I do believe you’re right, Sunstreaker,” Ratchet said, cooling fans whirling up a notch.

                Hnngh… _nice_.

                But this wasn’t going to distract him from what he needed to say. It was important to Sunny, so it was important to him too.

                “Primus!” Sideswipe gasped. “You could still spike Sunny… mmm… just pull out… before…”

                Sunstreaker leg twitched against Sideswipe’s side, and he knew he had his brother’s interest. Ratchet’s rhythm faltered for a moment, and his astonished gaze met Sideswipe’s before traveling to Sunstreaker.

                “That’s… never thought of that,” Ratchet muttered, ducking his head and resuming his pace. There was now a sense of urgency inherent to it that Sideswipe fully supported.

                “Get some of my… best ideas… yeah, Ratch, just like that… during ‘facing.” Sideswipe slid his hands down to cover Ratchet’s, stroking the tops of the clenched fingers. “You close, baby?”

                Please let him be close. Sideswipe wanted this so badly. From the moment Ratchet had said how big his knot could get, Sideswipe had been looking forward to having it inside him.

                “Yes… I…” Ratchet’s pace slowed again and a tortured expression flashed across his face.

                “Oh, no no,” Sideswipe exclaimed, rolling his pelvis into the next thrust. “We’re doing this.”

                _Help him, Sunny,_ Sideswipe called. Sunstreaker rolled to his knees immediately, shuffling across the berth and draping himself against Ratchet’s side. He nuzzled the medic’s neck, sliding a hand across his windshield and stroking the bottom edge of it.

                “Don’t disappoint him,” Sunstreaker murmured, nipping at the corner of Ratchet’s jaw. “He’ll whine about it for weeks.” 

                “Oh, Primus,” Ratchet moaned, momentarily offlining his optics. He slammed deep into Sideswipe’s valve, grinding a little before withdrawing halfway out and thrusting shallowly several times before starting the cycle again.

                “It’ll be ok,” Sideswipe promised, squeezing Ratchet’s wrists.

                Ratchet abruptly released Sideswipe’s hips and leaned forward over his chest. Supporting himself on his palms, Ratchet strained upwards to meet Sideswipe’s mouth in a desperate kiss. Sideswipe clutched at Ratchet’s helm, legs automatically rising to wrap themselves around Ratchet’s lower back. Ratchet’s rhythm became erratic, his vents sounding harsh.

                “Don’t let me hurt you,” Ratchet pleaded with a gasp, tearing his lips away after the too short kiss. His optics were wide and bright, flickering with the stresses of his systems.

                Sideswipe’s spark spasmed, and he smiled gently at their partner. Ratchet would always think of others, no matter what the situation. “I won’t. Now…. fill me up, love.”

                Ratchet groaned at the words, shifting his weight to one hand while sliding the other under Sideswipe’s lower back to reach down and cup his aft.

                “Last chance…!” he cried out through clenched denta, pulling Sideswipe’s frame into every frantic, strut-jarring thrust.

                Sideswipe merely tightened his legs, tilting his pelvis up. He didn’t know if he was imagining it or not, but he thought Ratchet’s spike was already beginning to swell, the rim of his valve reporting an incremental increase in pressure each time Ratchet plunged home.

                “Not taking it. C’mon, Ratch, give it to me,” Sideswipe whispered, his spark pulsing faster in anticipation. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw his brother shift closer to better see both of their expressions. A gold hand gently stroked Ratchet’s shoulder.

                Groaning in what sounded like pain, Ratchet shoved in deep one final time, the force of it actually sliding Sideswipe up the berth a few inches. At first, Sideswipe felt nothing out of the ordinary. Then, just inside the entrance to his valve, there was a blossom of warmth, followed by a pressure against the port walls.

                Ratchet shifted against him, barely withdrawing before immediately hitching forward. The pressure built, and Sideswipe reflexively clamped down on Ratchet’s spike. The medic cursed, fingers digging into Sideswipe’s aft.

                “Don’t…” he whispered. He tugged backwards again before pushing in, the knot expanding slowly but surely.

                “It’s fine,” Sideswipe said absently, focus drawn inwards and on the sensations his valve was sending him. He didn’t know what Ratchet had been so worried about… this didn’t hurt in the slightest.

_Ok?_

                Sideswipe nodded to his brother’s silent question, not even bothering to answer him. They’re bond was relatively open, so Sunstreaker could ‘eavesdrop” on the experience and help draw off discomfort if there were any.

                The ring of pressure continued to grow, Sideswipe’s port automatically expanding to accommodate it. It felt roughly the size of four of Sunstreaker’s fingers, side by side. “It’s good.”

                All of a sudden, the entire spike pulsed, Ratchet moaning again. A flash of heat erupted against the ceiling of Sideswipe’s valve, and he shuddered in pleased surprise.

                “Was that…?” Sideswipe whispered, clenching down again.

                “Yeah,” Ratchet choked out, continuing his short, little thrusts.

                Up to the width of Sunstreaker’s hand now and Sideswipe’s cooling fans kicked up to their highest speed, pleasure spiraling outwards from his valve in waves. Another shot of transfluid erupted deep in Sideswipe’s port, and both he and Ratchet cried out in unison.

                Sideswipe trembled as Ratchet continued to overload, or had multiple overloads back to back; Sideswipe couldn’t quite remember what Ratchet had said would happen. All Sideswipe knew was that each forceful pulse of hot liquid directly against sensitive ceiling nodes heralded another swell of Ratchet’s spike. The base was now as wide as Ratchet’s hand had been.

                He clutched at Ratchet’s shoulders, the stretch just behind his port rim making his sensory net flare crazily. Another pulse and he unexpectedly overloaded, the pleasure punching through him like white hot ecstasy. Sideswipe writhed beneath Ratchet, shouting wordlessly as charge raced along his lines.

                “Hold still, you idiot,” Ratchet cursed, releasing Sideswipe’s aft to clamp down on his hip.

                “Can’t,” Sideswipe moaned, optic feeding whiting out. “Ratch… feels so _good_ …”

                Another pulse and another stretch… Sideswipe’s feet scrambled against the back of Ratchet’s thighs, his claws digging into his partner’s back as his valve registered discomfort for the first time. Barely a pinch, especially in light of his ebbing overload, and Sideswipe batted the warning aside, calipers rippling alone Ratchet’s length in a wave.

                “Not… not done yet…” Ratchet said, sounding strangled. Sideswipe rebooted his visual feed and stared into Ratchet’s face. The medic still looked so worried, despite the obvious pleasure coursing through him.

                Ratchet’s hips retreated once more, and Sideswipe’s frame moved with him this time. There was no withdrawal of his spike at all. Ratchet was well and truly stuck.

                Whereas other mechs might have felt the first inkling of fear, all Sideswipe felt was awe. They were really going through with this; there was no turning back now. That knowledge, combined with another hot spurt of transfluid made him convulse with a second, minor overload, his distended calipers aching as they tried to clench around the knot and buildup of pressure.   

                Above him, Ratchet whined, pelvis reflexively hunching forward. His optics were starting to glaze over, lower lip swollen as his denta continually worried at it. Sideswipe wanted to crane his head upwards and capture that lip, soothe the nibbles with his glossa. Afraid to move, he sent that desire to Sunstreaker and his brother acted it out for him. Sunstreaker reached out and turned Ratchet’s head towards the side without any protests. Their lips met, Ratchet leaning almost desperately into the contact.

 _He’s running so hot,_ Sunstreaker commented, one arm cradling Ratchet’s cheek.

 _Is he?_ Sideswipe asked, a little dazed. He thought he might be running a little hot too, as flared as his plating was. Ratchet’s spike swelled again, and Sideswipe forgot what he had been thinking about as a flicker of pain shot down both legs. Almost immediately, his deepest nodes were stimulated with another flush of transfluid, and the pain and pleasure swirled together until he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

               His legs slipped off Ratchet’s waist, heels landing on the berth. Ratchet responded to the change in position almost immediately, tearing away from Sunstreaker’s mouth with a snarl. He grabbed at Sideswipe’s aft again and apparently they weren’t as stuck together as Sideswipe had thought. Ratchet shoved forward, entire frame tensing. His knot slipped deeper, and Sideswipe choked on his own oral lubricant.

               “Sides!” Sunstreaker exclaimed, gripping Sideswipe’s shoulder and staring at him worriedly. He had felt that stinging lash of pain, so unexpected Sideswipe hadn’t been able to hide it.

               “’m’fine,” Sideswipe managed, realizing he had tensed up. That was bad. Ratchet’s hips were twitching, which usually heralded another swell of the knot. His port was still giving him mixed signals, but unless he relaxed, the sensations were going to quickly veer away from the ‘good’ side of things.

                As if reading his processor, Sunstreaker hurriedly leaned over and kissed him, their glossa entangling in a familiar dance. Sideswipe automatically melted into the kiss, his brother’s comforting scent encompassing him. A hand wrapped around his forgotten spike and he moaned deep in the back of his intake, the touch coinciding with yet another expansion of Ratchet’s spike.

                His port felt swollen from entrance to gestation tank. There was now enough lubricant and transfluid stuffed inside him that Sideswipe felt close to bursting. He had never felt this full, never felt all his sensor nodes stimulated this way before. He could barely comprehend it, processor fulling dull and sluggish and all its power devoted to just _feeling_.

 _Your plating is bowing,_ Sunstreaker said in wonderment, hand leaving Sideswipe’s spike to ghost over his ventrum.

               His twin moved away enough so Sideswipe could lift his head. He stared down the length of his body and nearly overloaded again at the sight of Sunstreaker’s hand cupped over the tiny little mound of Sideswipe’s lower belly.

               “You wanted filled,” Ratchet growled, the rough tone sending a thrill through Sideswipe’s back struts. The medic was barely recognizable, faceplates contorted in a triumphant, feral snarl.

                The medic canted his hips away, Sideswipe’s frame tugged upwards with the motion. When Ratchet thrust again, Sideswipe’s helm met the wall from the force of the push.

                “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Ratchet demanded, lips lifting from his denta. “Overflowing with my load?” His optics flickered as yet another stream of fluids burst from his spike within the depths of Sideswipe’s port. His HUD informed him that the small opening of his gestational tank was now bowing under the pressure, and algorithms Sideswipe didn’t even know he had abruptly flared to life.

                Sideswipe’s frame drew taut, pelvis tilting even further upwards. “Yesss…” he hissed, suddenly feeling wild and wanton and not caring about the pain any more. He wasn’t truly full, not until he received every last drop of transfluid from Ratchet’s reservoir. “More!”

                “Then you’ll have it,” Ratchet snarled, hips stuttering forward again.

                Sideswipe was starting to get an uncomfortable crick in his neck cables, but he ignored it in favor of his valve being forced a fraction wider, equal parts pain and pleasure webbing outwards from his array as Sunstreaker continued to stroke his spike. Sideswipe’s vents caught, the calipers of his port twitching. Another spurt of transfluid was coming any second now, and Sideswipe could barely hold still in anticipation… just a little bit more…

                Ratchet’s spike jerked, a blistering rush of transfluid joining the large amount already sloshing around inside Sideswipe. He keened, entire frame trembling on the precipice of overload as that small, closed orifice to his gestational tank further buckled. Static charge arced between the tip of Ratchet’s spike and Sideswipe’s ceiling nodes, his engine throttling past redline.  

                “More, more, more!” Sideswipe chanted, one hand whipping out to the side to clamp down on any part of his brother he could reach. “ _Primus_ … please!”  

                Sunstreaker’s hand sped up, the slick friction making Sideswipe forget himself and buck up into his twin’s grip. The mix of fluids inside his valve shifted a fraction, and he shrieked as his nodes were caressed by the wave of pressure; yet it was still not enough to tip him over that razor sharp edge he hovered at.

                Ratchet’s engine gave a mighty rev in response, his pelvis grinding against Sideswipe’s aft. The spike inside him swelled _again_ , overcapacity warnings flaring up bright across his HUD. At his point, his valve couldn’t respond at all, calipers stretched too far to even spasm.

                Ratchet suddenly stilled, his head rising. Their optics met, Ratchet’s still hazy and overly bright. The medic trembled in a full body shiver before one side of his mouth lifted in the smallest of smirks. An orbital ridge raised in challenge, as if to say ‘Are you ready for this? Because here comes the finale.’

                Sideswipe shuddered, fire curling through his lines. “Yes,” he whispered, transfixed by the expression on their lover’s face. “Do it.”

                Optic shutters fluttering closed, Ratchet’s head tilted backwards, neck strained in a beautiful arc. His hips snapped forward so forcefully it drove Sideswipe’s shoulders against the wall, his chin practically touching his chestplate.

                Ratchet roared, his spike throbbing deep inside Sideswipe’s valve. Spurt after spurt of transfluid erupted from the tip, blasting against his ceiling nodes and finally pushing him over into climax. He stiffened with a shout, valve aching as the walls rippled as best as they could, eagerly trying to accept the seemingly endless flow of Ratchet’s spill.

                The pressure continued to rise with each new load of fluids, and the entrance to his gestational chamber finally gave. The rush of molten liquid pouring across sensors from valve to tank triggered another overload, directly on top of the proceeding one and the most powerful of them all. Sideswipe wailed, his own transfluid spattering over his belly and chest in a dual climax.

                He writhed uncontrollably beneath Ratchet, the medic riding each motion, firmly in place within Sideswipe’s port. Dispersing static electricity arced over his armor, tendrils whipping out to lash against his brother’s and Ratchet’s plating. Sunstreaker gasped out a curse and buried his face against Sideswipe’s neck, shaking mightily. Absently, he felt a bloom of warmth against his side.  

                Safe under the press of Ratchet’s and his brother’s frames, Sideswipe passed into unconsciousness, his entire body thrumming with pleasure.

 

~ End Part 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I drink the honey inside your hive / you are the reason I stay alive"

                After a certain point, Ratchet began losing conscious control of his frame. The room around them faded out and there was just Sideswipe beneath him, Sunstreaker off to his side. And at the end, all that existed was the stretched, wet valve milking his spike, tight and hot around him and begging to be filled.

                Ratchet obliged, his body moving without his command, twitching and thrusting and emptying into that willing hole. It been millennia since he’d last done this; his bouts of interfacing since always feeling as if they were lacking in some way. The urge to tie with his partner was written into his most basic operating code. Everything else paled in comparison.

                Even if they only ever did this once, Ratchet would never be able to pay Sideswipe back for giving him this experience.

                Holy Primus, Sideswipe!

                Ratchet’s optic shutters flew open as he came back to himself. He stared down at Sideswipe’s slack expression and nearly had a spark attack until he realized his lover was ventilating normally, if very quickly. The poor mech was practically dripping with condensation, his chest streaked with transfluid, and plating flared as much as it could. Heat poured off him in waves, although Ratchet wasn’t any better, he quickly realized. His HUD continually flashed him overheating warnings which he ignored. His cooling fans would quickly take care of that now his reservoir was emptied.

                Amazingly, he was still propped up on his hands, although his elbows were wobbling dangerously despite his joint lock. Before moving himself, however, he needed to check his partner, so he initiated a quick scan of Sideswipe.

                The results almost made him slump in relief. Energy depleted for sure, but systems otherwise firmly in the green with no signs of abnormal stress. Apparently he had passed out from exhaustion and not pain.

                “Ratch?” a scratchy voice asked.

                He turned his attention to the gold form pressed close to Sideswipe. Sunstreaker’s optics were just now booting up, his gaze unfocused. He looked almost as wrecked as his brother, and Ratchet suspected the two of them had been buried in the bond there near the end. It looked as if the backlash from Sideswipe’s final overload had pushed Sunstreaker over the edge as well, judging by the streaks of transfluid on the side of Sideswipe’s hip.

                “Sunny. Are you ok?” Ratchet asked, own voice practically unrecognizable from static. “And your brother?

                “I’m fine. He’s fine,” Sunstreaker mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face. Ratchet found it absolutely adorable and almost told him that in a fit of overload induced stupidity. He reigned in the impulse at the last moment. “You?”

                “I…” Ratchet trailed off, taking a more detailed stock. He was exhausted and sore. Every tension wire and cable in his hips and back were calling him bad names and his fluid levels were dangerously low. He should have remembered how depleted he got after a knotting.

                And speaking of his knot… it was still enlarged and very well stuck. It would take a few more minutes before it would start depressurizing. Until then, with Sideswipe offline, he didn’t want to move for fear of hurting the mech. However, he didn’t know if his body was going to be able to stay in this position much longer, judging by the ever increasing shake in his arms.

                Sunstreaker blinked up at him, seeing the tremors. “Sit back,” he suggested, laboriously pushing himself upright.

                Ratchet grimaced. “Would love to, but I think that might pull on things.”

                “You started out that way… should be fine.” Sunstreaker pushed himself to his knees, sliding an arm under Ratchet’s chest. “Move slow. I got you.”

                With Sunstreaker’s help, Ratchet managed to sit back on the heels of his pedes, legs spread wide for balance. Sideswipe slid along the berth with him, limp legs draped over Ratchet’s thighs and pillow hurriedly shoved under his aft to support his weight. The red twin didn’t even twitch throughout the entire maneuver.

                “Are you sure he’s all right?” Ratchet asked, gaze roving over Sideswipe’s sprawled out form.

                “Think so,” Sunstreaker said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that was not encouraging in the slightest. “Felt like it when he got knocked off line.”

                “Well, hopefully he wakes up soon so I can ask him myself,” Ratchet replied, stroking Sideswipe’s thighs and abdomen. His belly bulged, just slightly, and was warm to the touch. Ratchet found himself stroking the area over and over again.

                “Just how much transfluid does your body make?” Sunstreaker asked idly, watching the motions of Ratchet’s hand. When he saw Sunstreaker staring, Ratchet guiltily snatched his servo back.  

                “Roughly the same as you or your brother… It’s in proportion to frame type. Our reservoirs would hold similar amounts, although my coding calls for it all to be emptied at once when I’ve knotted,” Ratchet explained.

                “So could you still come again?”

                Sunstreaker reached out his own hand and touched his twin’s abdomen, expression looking thoughtful.

                “I could, in theory,” Ratchet replied, considering the idea. “But it would be a dry overload. Nothing left until my body made more transfluid over the next several hours.”

                The gold twin looked up at him from his seated position next to Sideswipe. “Would your body still make you go through the whole knotting process if your reservoir was empty?”

                Ratchet opened his mouth and then shut it, looking at Sunstreaker in astonishment. “I… you know, I’m not sure. I’ve never tried. But, again in theory… I can’t imagine so.”

                Sunstreaker arched an orbital ridge in challenge. “You wanna try? Next round?”

                Sideswipe stirred, turning both of their attentions back to him. “Mmm… next… round?” he slurred hopefully.

                Ratchet shook his head in disbelief, watching Sideswipe’s optics flicker before booting with a dim flare. “This round’s not even technically done,” he retorted, carefully twitching his pelvis.

                Despite the gentle motion, Sideswipe gave a guttural moan, neck and back arching. His legs moved feebly, and one of his hands slipped between his thighs. His fingers touched Ratchet’s pelvis, feeling along the root of his spike, and Sideswipe smiled. Ratchet’s spark skipped a beat at the sweet expression.

                “Good. Wanna keep you.”

                Sunstreaker snorted. “Sap. How’re you doing? Ratchet wants to know.”

                “I’m good…” Sideswipe murmured, hand trailing upwards to land on that little bump both Ratchet and Sunstreaker had been fondling earlier. “Mmmm… was different.”

                “Bad different or good different?” Ratchet inquired. Well, so far, this had gone a lot better than the last time he had attempted knotting with a non-compatible mech.

                “It got big,” Sideswipe admitted. “Stung a bit the last few times it swelled. But I was distracted enough.” He reached over and blindly flailed at his brother until Sunstreaker caught Sideswipe’s hand, enfolding it in one of his own. “Next time, I want to be on my hands and knees. I wanna feel everything pool right here,” he murmured dreamily, cupping his little mound.

                Something deep and primal inside Ratchet twitched at the sight Sideswipe presented, and his hips moved on their own volition. Sideswipe’s lips parted on a breathy cry, pelvis rising to meet the small thrust.

                “Alright,” Ratchet agreed, transfixed by Sideswipe’s expression.

                “You’d do it again?” Sunstreaker asked, obviously surprised. Ratchet blinked a few times, a little surprised himself, before nodding cautiously.

                “Pending a manual exam of Sideswipe’s valve after I can pull out. I want to make sure there’s no damage.”

                “I’m fine!” Sideswipe insisted, trying to prop himself up on an elbow. Almost immediately, he fell back down with a wince. “… alright. I’m sore. But that’s to be expected.”

                “Just lie there,” Ratchet instructed. “Sunstreaker, would you grab us some energon? I didn’t think to bring any coolant, but energon would be a start. It will probably be a few more minutes before the knot begins to shrink.”

                Sunstreaker nodded. “Sure. We have some extra cubes of mid-grade. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink at his brother.

                “Hardy har har,” Sideswipe sniped back, very carefully arranging his legs in a more comfortable position. “So did I really hear we’re having another round? Cuz, I think I’m done for the day.”

                Sunstreaker came to an abrupt halt a few steps from the berth and turned around to stare at his brother. “Ratchet… thank you. I never thought I would hear those words.”

                Sideswipe stuck his glossa out, lifting a fist in a threatening manner. “My _valve’s_ done. Come back over here, and I’ll show you what I can still do with the rest of me.”

                “Calm down, kids. Sunny and I were discussing the probability of my systems initiating a knotting cycle again if my reservoir is empty,” Ratchet informed Sideswipe.

                “Well… they wouldn’t, right? What’s the point of the knot if there’s nothing to keep inside?” Sideswipe asked, stroking his belly again. “That being said, are we going to make a huge mess as soon as you pull out? Cuz I don’t think we thought that far ahead.”

                “Is your gestational tank full?” Ratchet inquired, guessing the answer would be yes.

                Sideswipe nodded and Ratchet continued. “Then not as much of a mess as you would think. There is a… well, the last bit of transfluid is more ionized than the rest. It will form a bit of a plug sealing up your tank.”

                Sideswipe’s optics widened, and he stared down the length of his body. “So I’m always gonna look like this?”

                “Just a little while until it’s absorbed. You might feel a little… euphoric… until then as well. Even now, your body is taking the transfluid and siphoning charge out of it, and sending it up the reproductive channel to your spark chamber. If we merged right now, our combined spark energies and that charge could make a new spark,” Ratchet explained. “I’ve been told that amount of charge build up around the spark is very pleasurable.”

                “Woah, woah, woah,” Sideswipe exclaimed, hands coming up to cover his chest protectively. “That’s all it would take? I thought twins couldn’t spark! I ain’t interested in being a dad.”

                Ratchet chuckled, shaking his head. “The likelihood of a merge creating a new spark is very low to begin with in our species. Your half spark wouldn’t be able to contribute enough CNA to the merge. If all _three_ of us merged at the same time, it might be possible though,” Ratchet said, circling a hand to encompass Sunstreaker.

                The golden twin took another step away from the berth, expression wary. Well, that answered the question if Sunstreaker was interested in being a creator.

                “Ok, wait, so why did it take so long for all that fluid to get into my tank in the first place? You’re the only bot around with this software so you’re the only one emptying their reservoir. How does a new spark normally happen?” Sideswiped demanded.

                Ratchet raised an orbital ridge. The twins were young, onlined at the beginning of a war, but surely _someone_ had told them this. “Really? You never once looked into how sparklings are created?”

                “Why would we? We were told practically at creation that we couldn’t reproduce. And a good thing too, since no one wanted any more monsters,” Sideswipe replied sullenly. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted as if wanting to move away, but settled with a wince and a pout when Ratchet’s knot held firm.

                Ratchet stared down at him for a moment before looking up at Sunstreaker. The golden twin was very carefully pouring energon into another cube and studiously ignoring them both.

                After considering several lines of thought, Ratchet finally spoke. “Twins are not monsters. There was a time when they were considered bad luck, but…”

                Sideswipe scoffed. “Bad luck? It would’ve been _nice_ if someone had said that. We got called lots worse.”

                “I’m sure,” Ratchet said carefully. “Mecha can be superstitious and cruel and whatever was said to you was very likely undeserved. _I_ always considered living twin sparks to be a miracle; so few make it to unfurling.”

                “I wish we could have known you while we were growing up,” Sunstreaker murmured, walking back over. He handed Ratchet one cube and then stood over his brother, frowning down at the second container practically brimming with liquid. “Can you sit up?”

                Sideswipe waved him away. “I’ll wait. Ratch, you said only a few more minutes, right?”

                Nodding, Ratchet gratefully took a gulp of his cube. “Not much longer, no. Do you still want to hear about how sparklings are made?”

                Sunstreaker carefully sat at the head of the berth, turning so that Sideswipe could rest his head atop one golden thigh. “Yes. I would.”

                “Yeah, I guess. Something to do,” Sideswipe replied, field still a little withdrawn and surly. It obviously wasn’t the time to probe, but now Ratchet desperately wanted to know more about the twins’ sparklinghood. Judging by little remarks here and there, Ratchet knew it hadn’t been the best. The more he knew, the better he would be able to comfort them. If they ever accepted comfort, that is. That was still a work in progress.

                “Alright, well in non-twinned sparks, the process occurs much the same way. The gestational tank does not need to be full, although the more transfluid the better to gather enough charge to help ignition,” Ratchet explained, moving on.

                “So is there something wrong with my tank? The pressure kept building and building until it finally forced the tank open,” Sideswipe said, looking concerned.

                Ratchet shook his head. “No, your tank’s fine. The tank orifice wouldn’t spiral open because you have codes in place to keep it closed. Standard contraception in all Autobots. But… with that amount of pressure, the contraception would have been overridden as a failsafe to prevent damage in your valve. ”

                “Codes? When did that happen?” Sideswipe asked, befuddled.

                “During enlistment at our medical exam, doofus,” Sunstreaker retorted, prompting his brother to glare up at him. “Don’t you remember Sprocket saying that?”

                “That was ages ago,” Sideswipe replied with an airy wave of his hand. “How the Pit do _you_ remember?”

                Sunstreaker shrugged. “I just do. So, Ratchet…”

                “Yes?” Ratchet replied, brow furrowing at Sunstreaker’s hesitation.

                “So even though Sides’ contraception codes were in place, his tank still opened because of the sheer amount of fluid. If he hadn’t been a twin and you two had merged, it would have been possible to ignite a new spark, right? That doesn’t seem like a completely safe method,” Sunstreaker commented.

                “Nothing is 100%. But then again, the chances of meeting someone like me who still have these old operating systems are pretty slim,” Ratchet said, smiling a little. “You’re quite the theoretician today, aren’t you?”

                Sunstreaker smiled back but the expression quickly faded into one more serious. “Ok, but what if a mech was interfaced a lot? Like by a whole bunch of different mechs? So many that there was enough transfluid to force open the tank. And then that mech merged with someone.”

                Ratchet considered the golden twin, his downcast optics and the hand he had laid on Sideswipe’s shoulder. He wasn’t exactly sure what was being asked, but replied as truthfully as able. “Well… it would still be possible, then, yes. ‘Course that particular scenario would likely have to be either one Pit of a good time or…”

                Both twins flinched and Ratchet paused, tanks churning. He suddenly wished he was not tied so thoroughly within Sideswipe, because fidgeting or pacing seemed like a good idea. “Is there something you want to tell me?” Ratchet asked carefully.

                He had perused both twins’ medical records many centuries ago when they had joined Prime’s division. The early medics who had examined Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had only typed up brief entries, nothing very illuminating. But he did know they had been captured by the Decepticons along with a higher ranked commanding officer shortly before joining the Ark crew. He would have to go back and review those entries again, read between the lines. Of course, knowing the twins and their general distrust of others, if something had happened, they likely wouldn’t have told anyone.

                Sideswipe’s optics rolled up, he and his brother exchanging a look. “No,” Sideswipe finally said, looking at Ratchet almost challengingly.

                Oh, Primus. Ratchet’s spark shrunk down in its casing and his processor spun. He wanted to ask questions so badly, to delve deeper, but he dare not. He was earning their trust, but he most certainly would lose it by pushing.

                He nodded, judging it best to drop it and continue on. “Ok. Well… that’s basically how a newspark is created. Once it forms, the newspark stays attached to the carrier spark for the first term. Then it travels back down the reproductive channel to the gestational tank where it enters its developing frame. It stays there throughout the second term until unfurling.”

                “So since we didn’t merge, all that transfluid is just gonna sit here until my body absorbs it?” Sideswipe inquired, petting the little lump again. “Seems kinda a waste.”

                “That and the unused charge,” Ratchet answered, nodding. “They’ll be _some_ mess when I pull out. There’s still a bit of lubricant and transfluid left in your valve, after all.”

                “Mmmm, yeah, I can feel it,” Sideswipe commented. “It’s starting to trickle out already. You’re getting smaller, you know.”

                Ratchet stared down at his lap in surprise. He hadn’t known until Sideswipe had mentioned it, but the clasp of his valve wasn’t as tight as it had been just a minute earlier.

                “Oh, so I am. How are you feeling?”

                Sideswipe winked at him, suddenly all bright optics and smiles again. “Just peachy. I think we should call this a success. Told you I could take it, didn’t I?”

                “I’m still withholding judgement until I examine you,” Ratchet cautioned. Sideswipe wasn’t screaming in agony, but he had spoken a bit of truth earlier – both twins had a high pain tolerance. Ratchet could attest to that, especially considering how many times he had seen them come into the MedBay with a grin, yet missing limbs.

                Sideswipe carefully stretched, reaching down to feel around where Ratchet’s spike was buried. “Shouldn’t be much longer. But don’t scoot out until you’re regular sized, k?”

                At Ratchet’s questioning look, Sunstreaker spoke up. “He doesn’t like feeling empty.”

                “It’s weird after being that full,” Sideswipe supplied, shrugging with a hint of embarrassment to his field.

                “I will stay until then,” Ratchet promised, taking another sip of his energon. He rolled it around his mouth, savoring the smooth flavor before swallowing. “This your own mix?”

                “Yup!” Sideswipe said proudly. “Don’t just make high grade, you know. Uh,” Sideswipe hurried to say after a poke from his brother, “…not that I make high grade, senior officer, sir. Slip of the glossa there.”

                “Course not. Because that would be against regulations,” Ratchet intoned, smiling behind his cube.

                Sideswipe shifted experimentally, frowning a little. “Oh, absolutely. Definitely getting smaller. Think I felt you slide around a bit.”

                “Yes. I think so as well,” Ratchet said, shivering as Sideswipe’s valve clenched a little against hypersensitive equipment.

                “So… I mean, what did they expect mecha to do while they were waiting for the knot to go down?” Sideswipe suddenly blurted out, twitching restlessly. “This is ridiculous!”

                Sunstreaker smiled down indulgently at his twin. “Horror of horrors. Stuck in one place for ten whole minutes.”

                “I can’t quite say what the inventors of this particular system were thinking,” Ratchet replied dryly. “Most times I’ve held my partner close and just talked, but I know the holding still part is hard for you.”

                “Heh. You said ‘hard’,” Sideswipe said, grinning up at Ratchet lopsidedly.

                Seeing that little smile made Ratchet’s spark spasm again; he would be fooling himself to think the twins didn’t mean something to him. He was protective of all this patients to a certain extent, but what he felt for the twins went far above anything he experienced even towards his closest friends among the crew.

                “ _You’re_ ridiculous,” Ratchet replied, stroking the area where Sideswipe’s thighs joined the rest of his body.

                “I’ve been saying that for years,” Sunstreaker quietly muttered, earning a pinch in his side from his twin.

                “Yeah, yeah,” Sideswipe groused. “Pick on the guy who can’t move. Oooh! Speaking of…”

                Ratchet bit back a groan as Sideswipe shifted again, this time causing actual movement of Ratchet’s spike. His knot was definitely shrinking and a lot faster now. Sideswipe’s valve was also returning to its more normal state, the calipers better able to clench down on the length filling it.

                “Sorry. Are you sensitive?” Sideswipe inquired, probably catching sight of Ratchet’s expression.

                “Some,” Ratchet admitted, watching the puddle of fluids under Sideswipe’s aft grow. “Not too bad, though.”

                “I’ll try and keep the squirming to a minimum,” Sideswipe promised.

                The mech did his best, he really did, but he couldn’t resist a little wriggle every now and then, testing things. After another minute, a twitch of Sideswipe’s hips popped the knot free past the lax valve entrance, a gush of liquids following.

                “Damn. Didn’t mean to do that,” Sideswipe said in disappointment, staring down the length of his body. “Holy slag! That was inside me?!”

                Sideswipe pointed to the now visible knot, smooth and streaked with their mixed fluids. It was easily the width of two spikes. Ratchet examined it, memerizing its curves and appearance. He hadn’t seen it inflated in so long he had almost forgotten what it looked like. After all, the hardware wouldn’t initiate unless he was actively interfacing another mecha’s valve and close to overload. And this was the first time that had happened in quite a while.

                “Impressive,” Sunstreaker said softly, leaning over and nuzzling the side of his brother’s helm. “Glad you took up with us. You would have destroyed a minibot.” 

                “Wow,” Sideswipe murmured in wonder. “I did it.”

                “You sound surprised,” Ratchet commented, nodding at Sunstreaker’s words. “Thought you were completely confident it would all work out.”

                “Didn’t think it would really get _that_ big,” Sideswipe remarked. The twins continued to stare and Ratchet fidgeted, a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. It wasn’t _that_ fascinating and in another minute it would be back to regular size.

                “Hey, did Ironhide have that system? Cuz he’s really old too,” Sideswipe suddenly asked.

                “You’d have to ask him. Patient-doctor confidentiality,” Ratchet stated, a little smugly. Truth be told, Ironhide was one of the first Autobots Ratchet had ever removed the knotting hardware from.

                Sideswipe pouted up at him with a roll of his optics. “Oh, fine. He was old enough to have it though, right?”

                Grinning, Ratchet nodded. “Yes. Him and Jazz for sure, although not everyone from that time had the system in the first place. If you’re planning on asking ‘Hide though, let me know when so I can watch how that turns out.”

                Sunstreaker chuckled. “I’ll be on the sidelines with you on that one, Ratchet.”

                Sideswipe turned his pout on his brother. “You’re no fun. What if I get flattened?”

                “Then Ratchet will repair you. The knot’s out already; why don’t you let him sit in a more comfortable position. You’ve been lazing on your back this whole time,” Sunstreaker replied, tone quickly turning scolding.

                “Oh, I’m fine!” Ratchet protested with a wave of his hand. His body was insisting on something completely different, however.

                “Uh huh,” Sideswipe said in disbelief, shrewd gaze passing over Ratchet’s frame. “He’s right. Let me just…”

                 Sideswipe planted his feet on either side of Ratchet’s knees and scooted backwards a little bit, enough for Ratchet’s spike to pop completely free. A veritable flood of transfluid and lubricant poured out of Sideswipe’s valve and he grunted as he sat up, Sunstreaker laying a supportive hand on his middle back.

                 “Just a little mess, huh?” Sideswipe said wryly. He immediately bent over, trying to see his valve, and explore it with his fingers.

                Ratchet flopped to one hip, laboriously swinging his legs out from under him. His back was screaming at him and he collapsed backwards onto the berth, stretching out vertebral struts in an attempt to get rid of the kinks.

                “Stop it,” Sunstreaker said crossly, batting Sideswipe’s hands away from between his legs. “You always have to touch. Let Ratchet look when he’s able to move again.”

                “It’s ok, I really think I’m fine,” Sideswipe insisted. “Sore, definitely, but that’s it. Ow.”

                Ratchet struggled to sit up at the little admittance to pain, optics scanning Sideswipe worriedly, terrified that energon would start pouring out him. He saw nothing of the sort; instead, Sideswipe had his arms wrapped around his abdomen and was staring down at it with a disgruntled look.

                “My stomach hurts,” he complained. “This is slag. _How_ long does this last for?”

                Ratchet began chuckling, letting himself fall backwards onto the berth again. “A few more hours, Sideswipe. Good thing you have no interest in sparklings; doesn’t sound as if you would enjoy carrying.”

                “Frag no. I’m barely able to bend. I’d be next to useless in a fight right now.”

                “Awwww… widdle Swideswipe have a tummy ache? Eat too many Energon tweats?” Sunstreaker cooed, fitting himself behind his twin and wrapping arms around the red menace.

                Sideswipe growled, wriggling in Sunstreaker’s grip. “Shaddup. Or I’ll send this through as well.”

                “I got a little of it from earlier. Seeing you like this, though… it’s kind of… hot,” Sunstreaker said, voice turning introspective. Sideswipe’s arms fell to his sides, leaving Sunstreaker holding the slight bulge of Sideswipe’s belly.

                Ratchet rolled himself to one hip, spike finally beginning to depressurize back into its sheath. He stared at the twins, the gentle way Sunstreaker was cradling his brother. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a carrier with a second term sparkling,” Ratchet said quietly. “They tend to look a lot like that.”

                All three of them were silent for a moment before Sideswipe spoke up, breaking the melancholy mood. “Well, best take an image capture, since I won’t look like this again. Considering how unlikely it would be for us to ignite a newspark, much less carry it all the way to birth.”

                “What about me spiking you again?” Ratchet asked, secretly doing as Sideswipe had suggested, even if it wasn’t meant to be serious. Seeing Sideswipe like that… it made something in the most basic part of his processor satisfied and even proud.

                Sideswipe looked up, quirking one side of his mouth. “Don’t know, Doc. You keep saying you have to clear me first.”

                “This is true,” Ratchet admitted. “Lean back.”

                He pushed himself into a seated position and scooted across the berth. Sunstreaker pulled his brother back’s against his chest, the two of them reclining as Sideswipe parted his thighs. Ratchet studied Sideswipe’s array with a crucial optic before even touching it.

                Sideswipe was a mess of drying fluids, but Ratchet didn’t see one drop of distinctive blue energon mixed in. The metalmesh surrounding the lips of Sideswipe’s valve was still puffy and swollen, the entrance itself gaping slightly.

                “Where’s that… oh, thank you,” Ratchet said, reaching for the bottle of lubricant and finding it handed to him by Sunstreaker.

                “You probably don’t need that. Whole big puddle of lube right by your knee,” Sideswipe suggested.

                Ratchet made a face at the large wet spot, still glistening under the overhead light. “That’s used,” he complained, quickly slicking his fingers.

                “You got something to say ‘bout my valve, Ratch?” Sideswipe asked, affecting a dangerous tone, but optics sparkling.

                “I will in a moment. Hold still,” Ratchet commanded, gently tracing the port rim. It twitched beneath his fingers, and Sideswipe let his head drop back on his brother’s shoulder, softly sighing. Ratchet then inserted just the tip of his finger, feeling up beneath the rim. There were no obvious tears, but the lining wasn’t as smooth as it should be, and Sideswipe’s ventilations hitched in a telling fashion more than once.

                Ratchet continued his exploration as deep as his finger would go, palpating the entire circumference. Sideswipe’s valve would tremor and shiver in some places, but other than the occasional rough patch, Ratchet found everything to be fine.

                “You doing ok?” Ratchet asked, finally drawing back. He noticed Sideswipe shivering a little and reflexively scanned him one more time, seeing nothing out of the ordinary except for the same low fuel levels he had noted earlier. Ratchet reached for the abandoned cube of energon sitting on the floor and shoved it into Sideswipe’s hand.

                “Yeah. You were kinda revving me up, actually,” Sideswipe admitted with a flash of a grin, taking a sip of his fuel. “All gentle and serious-like. Can you do that again sometime, but on one of your exam tables and me in those little foot things like the human women?”

                Ratchet cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Stirrups?”

                “Yeah, those!” Sideswipe exclaimed with a pointing finger.

                “ _Primus_ ,” Sunstreaker complained, pulling Sideswipe’s arm back to his side. “Rein in your libido, brother. How is he?” Sunstreaker asked Ratchet.

                “Good,” Ratchet replied, shaking his head in amazement. “Lining is obviously stretched; more so in some places than others, but no tears. I have a nanite-rich gel back in the Bay I’ll give to you to apply twice daily for the next few days; it will help with the soreness. No valve play for at least a week.”

                “Awwww, come on!” Sideswipe whined a protest.

                “I’m serious, Sideswipe,” Ratchet instructed, wiping his fingers off on the bed covering. It was a loss anyway. “One rough frag, and you’ll tear in those rough spots.”

                “I’ll keep him distracted,” Sunstreaker promised.

                Sideswipe perked up at that. “Oh, yeah? How?”

                “Never you mind. Anything else?” Sunstreaker asked Ratchet after shushing his twin.

                Ratchet shook his head, still pleasantly surprised. He had thought he would never spike anyone else again; not unless he developed a sudden interest in one of the much larger mechs like Skyfire. Now Ratchet knew it was possible, as long as they were careful and prepped thoroughly. “No. All in all, that went quite well.”

                “So we can do it again sometime?” Sideswipe asked eagerly, leaning forward slightly in his excitement.

                “We can do it again sometime,” Ratchet replied, shaking his head in exasperation. “We’ll plan it a little better though.”

                “Awesome!” Sideswipe replied and happily wriggled back into Sunstreaker’s embrace.

                “So… what about what we were talking about earlier?” Sunstreaker piped up. Sideswipe craned his neck to look at his brother, face adopting a confused expression.

                “Next round, you mean?” Ratchet asked, surprised Sunstreaker would bring it up. There had been that moment where both of them had seemed to draw in on themselves, away from Ratchet. Bad memories had obviously been dredged up, and Ratchet didn’t think the topic of him spiking Sunstreaker would be revisited in the face of that.

                At Sunstreaker’s nod, Ratchet continued cautiously. “I… well… I’m willing if you are.”

                “I’d like to try,” Sunstreaker offered shyly. Ratchet’s spark danced in his chest at the admission, his spike twitching in its housing. He held out his hand to the golden twin.

                “Then let’s try.”

                “Oooh, Ratchet’s gonna take good care of you, Sunny,” Sideswipe said reassuringly as the brothers untangled their limbs from one another.

                “Yeah. I know,” Sunstreaker said softly, meeting Ratchet’s optics. “He always does.”

                Ratchet’s spark twisted again, warmth blossoming through his lines. He had a fleeting thought that if they would let him, he would be more than willing to take care of them for the rest of their lives.

                The look on Sunstreaker’s face turned mischievous as he approached Ratchet on hands and knees much like his brother had earlier. Those golden hips swayed back and forth enticingly and Ratchet watched, mesmerized.

                 “Of course, I think you might have worn him out a little, brother,” Sunstreaker observed, placing a hand on Ratchet’s chest and gently propelling him to lie down. As he did, Sunstreaker straddled Ratchet’s thighs, smirking. “Maybe it’s time _I_ took care of _him_.”

                 “I’m all yours,” Ratchet promised.

                 As long as they would have him.

 

~ End 


End file.
